Jun. 26th, 2006

Jun. 26th, 2006

He's hardly left the bridge since they lifted off from Beaumonde. Too many variables to track has made it way too much of a risk to stick Serenity on autopilot and leave her be, not for more than the time it takes to get some food or steal an hour's nap.

It ain't fair to leave all the baby care to Zoe, though. Not for this long.

(And it's unfounded, this far out in the black, but he doesn't like sitting in the pilot's chair with his daughter resting against his chest, her tiny hands bunched in a patch of shirt just over the thick scar that hasn't faded or smoothed out one bit.)

So he's on a couch in the kitchen lounge, buzzing with a hollow, detached energy that marks the weariness of a thirty-six hour adrenaline rush, with Naomi fast asleep in his arms.